Losing, finding, and going home
by Meresta
Summary: S.ItalyxN.Italy:: How was it possible to sleep this close, yet be so far apart. Request.
1. Losing, finding, and going home

**A/N:** This took _ages_. I have to make an enormous apology to the requester of this story, because it turned out much, much longer than I had expected, and it's also a lot more drama and angst than I'd planned. This plot just picked me up and ran with me, it caused me quite some trouble and struggling, but in the end I am satisfied with it. Eventually there will be somewhat of an epilogue to make up for missing fluff, romance and happiness, put up here as a second chapter. I'll just go over there and faint now. Thanks for the request, please enjoy! :Meresta  
**Summary:** How was it possible to sleep this close, yet be so far apart.  
**Rating:** T  
**Warnings:** Malexmale, brotherxbrother, use of alcohol.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia.

* * *

**Losing, finding, and going home.**

It wasn't a new feeling, this constant sting in his heart. He should have gotten used to it by now, and maybe he had, but it didn't stop the hurt. Ignoring it wouldn't change anything either, he had tried. It seemed as if nothing could detach it from him, no way of thought, no attitude, no smile.

Sure, he was tough. He had to be tough, if he wanted to survive. He had his pride and his children, he had his name. He had responsibility- even when the other Nations didn't recognize it, the fact remained unaltered. He was one of them.

And he worked hard, day in day out, never resting, never giving in. His work wasn't limited to signing papers; no one really wanted anything from him anyway. Communicating with his people was difficult as well, because his children either loved him, or hated him. Many left for the north, in search of a better life, a place able to offer them the realization of their dreams.

Yet despite this, Romano worked hard. He planted trees and built dams, he tried to promote his beaches and sunny weather to tourists as much as he could. He would pray days to end a drought, travel weeks to sell his harvest. They were getting by.

The reason of his hurt didn't originate at the difference between him and his brother. It bothered him and was able to strike him down at times, but it wasn't the source of his rarely spilled tears. What hurt him, was the fact that it was dragging his brother down.

Because Feliciano was all that, and then something.

It was no news to either of them that he was gifted, blessed, _touched_. He had that eternal smile, those endless eyes, and the skillful hands to match them. He had the favor of any other Nation, the preference of visitors, the love of them both. He lit up a room instantly with his mere presence, he could make grown Nations kneel at the sight of his tears. Sometimes even without the tears.

Lovino wasn't jealous.

He was happy for his brother, genuinely happy, and even though he wished he had received the same inheritance at times, he didn't want to take away Feliciano's. He was making better use of it anyway, in ways Romano couldn't even dream of doing.

For all _he_ could do, was catch him when he came running, high on joy and happiness daily life could bring him. All he could do, was twirl him around before setting him down, and listen to him speaking _their _language as he told all about his day. All he could do was make him dinner whenever he chose to spend an evening with him, thoroughly enjoying the expression of bliss good food brought to his face. All he could do, was pull the covers over him whenever he'd fall asleep on the couch, tired of a training, or his constant running and flying about.

All he could do, was love him to _death_, with all he had in him, and all he'd ever have.

But his love could not stand up against the gap between them, and he was ashamed at seeing his brother constantly lowering himself to his level, trying to pick up the pieces, trying to create a solid place for him in this world. He ignored his attempts at making him bond and despised each and every one of his friends, just to save himself the embarrassment of being pitied by them.

The thing he feared most was not war. It wasn't defeat.

It was rejection.

And this was what kept him silent, whenever he would see his brother sleeping. It was what held him back from running up and _holding_ him, whenever Germany scolded him. It was what stilled his voice, whenever he wanted to shout out that he could give him so much, he would give him all he had, his entire being and all his warmth, all the love flowing through his veins, all the care and gentleness, he would be his home and shelter, he would be his anchor and wings, he would catch his tears and guard his smile until his final breath-

He would love him through sunrise and sunset, with his body, mind and soul.

"_Fratello?_ Are you okay?"

The sweetest voice snapped Lovino out of his reverie, and Feliciano reflected the sheer sadness in his eyes with a look of question and worry. Romano shook his head, as if shrugging it off, and managed a smile.

"Of course."

He didn't want to, but his feet started a run and he was out the door before another word could have been spoken. He forced his eyes shut as he ran, holding back the tears stinging at the knowledge, that whatever he would do; no matter how much love he'd offer..

It would never be enough.

And he felt like an island, cut off from its land, slowly drifting further away as years passed. He was fighting the current, rowing like crazy, just to stay close, but his oars were broken and his body was tired. It had always been like this, yet he couldn't bring himself to give up.

He couldn't try to love another, because no one, _no one_-

No one was quite like Feliciano. He'd never find someone quite like Feliciano. And he'd never love anyone as much as he loved Feliciano. Ever.

-

Inside the house, Feliciano drew his outstretched arm back as the door was slammed shut by a strong draft. It slowly lowered, until it hung loosely by his side again, his hand forming a fist of powerlessness and desperation.

Because _why_.

Why did Lovino constantly run away from him. Why did he refuse his offers of aid, time after time. Why did he despise the other Nations so, why did he act so harsh and uncaring, when his heart was equal to that of an angel, even if Italy was the only one to see it. Why did he constantly look sad, why did he toss around in his sleep, and why-

Why wouldn't he allow him to _help_.

He wanted to, more than anything. He wanted to hug him and tell him things would be alright, because they had each other, and they were brothers, they'd never let the other down. They were family, _more_ than family, they were one in a way no one would ever be able to grasp, and it brought a connection so strong, so solid, that seeing Romano flee like this, denying their bond, felt worse than a blade through his heart.

What could be so bad, so unbelievably terrible, that he couldn't share it with him?

Italy didn't think something like that existed. He didn't care for the attitude and reputation his brother had, he only cared for who he was underneath. And he didn't see a barely existent Nation, shouting to be bothersome, worth equal to nothing, only there for show. He didn't see someone who was unable to bring anything aside from tomatoes and a good fight, someone to be ignored.

He saw Lovino, _his_ Lovino.

He saw an underappreciated, yet proud Nation, willing to sacrifice his own happiness to realize his brother's only wish. He saw someone who worked hard to ensure the safety and well-being of his children, day in day out, draining himself completely. He saw the one who listened to him, who comforted him, who carried him to bed whenever he'd chosen an unfortunate siesta spot.

If only the other Nations could see this caring side of him, if only they'd know, then things could become so much better. He could make friends, work together with them, he would grow stronger in security and confidence, he wouldn't have to work until his hands bled.

But no matter how many times Italy tried to convince Romano of all these facts, he'd always turn his head away and refuse with a poisonous voice, as if sickened by the idea of being kind to anyone aside from his brother.

Feliciano didn't understand.

And they were drifting apart because of it, because they lived beside each other, but not _with_ each other, and they couldn't even read each other's thoughts anymore, where normally this was done within the blink of an eye.

Now, whenever Feliciano met Lovino's eyes, he saw a place unreachable. A world out of existence, full of thoughts, hopes and dreams locked safely inside. He wished to be inside that world, so much, to hold his hand and lift his heart. He'd hold him high, he'd be his support, because _he_ was the one who could feel his emotions and speak his tongue.

No denial would make that go away.

A wave of exhaustion took Italy by surprise, and he swayed a little. Deciding it was time for a nap, not needing to see a clock, he went down to his bedroom, stripped off his clothes and slipped underneath the sheets. They felt cold and empty, and he reached out to grab the pillow Romano normally slept on, pulling it close to his chest, inhaling the scent that was his, yet wasn't.

His eyes closed without an attempt to keep the tears behind them from coming out, so they wetted the clean linen and expressed the fear of his heart. It wasn't fear for Romano to never make friends, or not being able to hear his mind as clearly anymore.

It was losing him.

Because this was all he was able to do to express the love he had for his brother. This was all that was within his power that wouldn't cause problems between them, these where the borders he could view without risking to spill his heart.

He made no secret of liking his brother, and he wouldn't have made a secret of loving him either, had he not shown such sadness whenever they were together. Not directly, no, he'd never show a sad face if he knew Italy could see it.

It was when he got lost in his thoughts, or drowned in his sleep, that a look of desperation and pain took over his features.

Feliciano loved his brother dearly. Immensely. In a way he'd never love _anyone_ else. It was different from the care he had for Germany, different from the friendship he was lucky enough to share with most other Nations. This went so much deeper, it was so much more true. It couldn't be expressed in words, tears or touches, only their understanding of each other could make it clear. The same blood running through their bodies, the language they spoke.

He wished to hold him and be held by him, he wished to kiss his tears away, he wished to stay at his side constantly, for them to shine together. He wished to express his love in every way possible, he wished to show his brother he _was_ loved like that, and he was precious, irreplaceable.

He couldn't survive a single day without him.

A choked sob left his throat and a restless sleep took him, hoping to reach the lands of Lovino's dreams, yet knowing he'll stay on the other side of that border.

He never allowed him to come any closer.

*

In the following days, the air between them only thickened more, heavy with insecurity and secrets, neither of the brothers making a move to clear either up. It had gotten as far as the two of them actually avoiding each other, something that went by unnoticed at first, but it showed in Feliciano's half-hearted smile, and Lovino's empty curses.

They were trapped in their own thinking, the mind games they were playing with no one but themselves, too blinded by their own beliefs to see clearly.

When an invitation to a world meeting landed on the doormat, they were forced to interact, agreeing to a time of departure, and the sharing of an hotel room. Romano remembered the times where these trips make him tingle inside.

And he could almost hear his brother reading to him from tourist flyers, trying to decide what museum they'd go to, what restaurant they would have dinner at. He could almost see the tiny television and a weathergirl, predicting possible rain, and he would have cursed at her if she hadn't been so cute, and Feliciano would smile, saying it wasn't going to rain.

He was always right.

When Italy hung up the phone, he exhaled so deeply it felt like he was breathing out a part of his soul, his eyes glancing over a pile of messily stacked leaflets. It's been a while since they've last visited London, but the experience was still fresh in his memory and was brought back to his vision without him even trying.

England's territories were so different compared to theirs, the people were always in a hurry and the sun never seemed to shine. Romano always claimed he didn't like it because he had to wear too many layers of clothing, and Italy would smile behind his scarf whenever he saw him looking up at the sky in suspense, almost waiting for the rain to come.

Clinging on to these memories, he packed the leaflets, hoping that maybe he'd get the chance to show them to his brother, and maybe, just maybe, things would be like they were before, if only for a little while.

They travelled in silence, first class, seated next to each other in an airplane that suddenly seemed too small. When a young lady passed them with several drinks and snacks, Feliciano refused politely, causing the girl to look away and blush. Lovino noticed this from the corner of his eye, and gave up on pretending to stare outside by ordering a glass of wine.

He felt his brother's eyes on him as he downed the glass in one fluid motion, somewhat worried and disapproving, and it only riled him more. Feeling heavy under the slight buzz and Feliciano's stare, he shifted back to the window, trying to concentrate on the clouds, head supported by his hand.

Italy sighed softly, giving up on finding a way to break the quietness, all hopes he had for this trip sinking low, escaping from his mind like they were thoughts of crime.

Even locating their hotel, as well as checking in and unpacking, went by without either of them saying anything. Italy felt his heart beating faster with every passing second, words ready on his tongue, yet unable to speak them out loud because the silence was pressing him down.

Romano felt the same, though he was unaware of his brother's strain, and while he searched for the remote of their temporary television, he wished it to be time for the weather broadcast.

When he found it and turned the TV on, they were indeed greeted by the sunny smile of a weather girl, predicting a not so sunny day. Lovino looked at Feliciano expectantly, waiting for him to promise him different, but the younger Nation hadn't heard a thing.

The awkward mood that had settled during their trip, remained during the meeting and Romano almost felt out of place when he sat down next to Italy, picking up the hand-out England had prepared and skimming through it with little attention. Next to him, Feliciano toyed with the cap of his bottle of water, letting it slip through his fingers, then picking it up again, his mind absent.

He didn't even get up to greet Germany when he entered, and Lovino felt like shouting at the potato-bastard for not noticing it. It was like Italy had made himself invisible, willingly staying in the background for the entire meeting. The result was a boring, dull day that drained all attending Nations completely.

It seemed that when Italy wasn't happy, no one was.

When the final presentation came to its end, the sound of mutual stretching and yawning filled the room. It had taken longer than they had planned, as usual, and it was already getting dark outside. Everyone got up, some heading home straight away, others staying, chatting a little with their friends, agreeing to meet up later.

Japan had approached Italy and was making some casual conversation, while Romano gathered the papers, nodding at Spain as he passed by. He felt extremely frustrated, like there was this big, thick fog hanging around him and no matter how hard he ran, he couldn't leave it behind. When he saw England, France and a few others about to hit the local pub, he decided to join them, suddenly really wanting to get drunk.

Glancing away from Japan for a moment, Italy caught his brother's eye, and they exchanged an indescribable look, which told Lovino that he didn't have to count on his brother coming along, and let Feliciano know that he was going to sleep alone.

Then, both averted their eyes.

*

Romano followed the group with long, slow steps, eyes on the ground, courage in his shoes. It had looked like a great idea, and effective way to dodge another strange evening, a good distraction.

But now, he felt terribly lonely.

England just kept bickering with America, who had agreed on being the one to stay sober that night to get everyone home safely. As the host, England had seen it as his job to take care of this, but America (and pretty much everyone else) knew that wouldn't be happening.

Germany had come along, but he was walking on his own and looked quite relaxed like that. Poland was dragging Lithuania along, promising him they would only have 'one drink' before returning to the hotel. The look on Toris' face said he knew different, for he knew his best friend.

It looked like Spain had passed, and though he didn't want to admit it, Romano was disappointed. Had Antonio been there, he would at least have had someone to yell at, if only for a few hours. France did try to draw him in, but Lovino denied his attempts at starting conversation, so Francis shrugged and let him be.

When they arrived at the pub it felt like he had been walking for days, and he plopped down on a barstool with a deep, heavy sigh. When the bartender asked him for his order, he looked around, seeing England gulping down his second beer.

"I'll have what he's having."  
The bartender nodded, and several moments later Romano was looking at the largest pint he had ever seen. He let his fingers play with the glass a little, curling around the handle, before lifting it and chasing the fluid down his throat. He set the empty glass back down, and waited.

But nothing happened.

Not sure whether to be disappointed or angry, he ordered another one and downed it in the same manner. When the second glass hit the bar, a warm feeling started pooling in his stomach, but it was nowhere near the intensity Romano had been hoping for. He sighed deeply and slumped, resting his head on the slightly wet wood.

He couldn't even get drunk decently.

"What're you doing here?"

Lovino frowned, feeling too sorry for himself to actually turn to face whoever was talking to him. Curiosity won in the end though, and he shifted, meeting drunk, green eyes. His frown grew stronger with slight jealousy. That damned Englishman always made it look so easy.

"That's none of your business.." He answered, and he swore it was supposed to sound meaner than it did, but he just couldn't bring himself to sharpen his voice. England smiled weakly.  
"Just not used to seeing you 'ere. Somethin' wrong?"

Romano _was_ going to snap at him, then realized it wouldn't get him anywhere, and he might as well talk to the drunk bastard because getting drunk himself was apparently not going to happen. He sat a little more upright.

"I just thought I'd try it your way for once. Bad idea."  
Arthur snorted loudly and raised his hand at the bartender, then lowered it to rest on Lovino's knee, patting in an almost dotting manner. Romano stared at the movement, not sure how to react, when a freshly filled glass was placed before him.

"Wha-?"  
"That one's on me." England slurred, moving his half-empty glass to cling the two together. "You'll want to go home after that."

Romano frowned again, a little insulted. Why was that British bastard telling him what to do? He had every right to stay and waste the night attempting to get drunk, heck, he could go home with _France_ if he felt like it.

"What makes you think I want to go home?!" He demanded hotly.  
England shrugged, and it made Lovino hiss. He was making fun of him!  
"..this is not where you're supposed to be is all." He pointed at Romano's untouched third glass. "Are you drinking that?"

The Italian quickly pulled the glass closer and took a large sip, his accusing stare not leaving England, who seemed to be a little disappointed. Romano set the glass back down and couldn't help but ask;

"Why?"

The moment it left his lips he felt like slamming his head into the bar. How much lower could he sink, asking a drunk Nation, a drunk _British_ Nation to explain himself. Arthur didn't look all that bothered though, and raised his hand at the bartender again.

"You'll make him worry."

Lovino's eyes widened slightly, and he turned to gulp down the remainder of his drink in denial. The words had stung though, hitting him harder than any string of beers ever would. Then his own worry hit him, gathering inside his body, fueled by guilt and a tiny bit of alcohol.

Suddenly, he felt horribly out of place.

He got up as fast as he could, swaying just a little before finding his balance. He dug deep in his pockets and fished out some cash, throwing it down on the counter. He turned to say goodbye to England, only to see him already talking to someone else, another full glass ready in his hands.

Unwilling to pay any more attention to him, or the pub, Romano turned on his heel and headed out. Chilly night air hit him and he shivered, though the warm embrace of three beers kept him from feeling cold. He tried to clear his mind to determine his direction, and started walking.

"_..this is not where you're supposed to be is all."_

England's slurred words rang through his mind, and Romano sped up his pace. Drunk as that bastard had been, he was right. He wasn't supposed to leave his brother alone like that to drown himself in his own misery, no matter what his reasons were. Losing his brother was what he was most afraid of, and here he was creating more and more distance between them.

The worry he felt grew stronger as he imagined Feliciano staying alone in their room, asleep on the couch. The speed of his steps increased even more and when he arrived at the hotel, he realized something very important.

He didn't have a key.

He cursed as loud as his ragged voice would let him. In his rush to escape from the uncomfortable situation, he had forgotten to ask his brother for the spare key. He turned to take a look at the nearby clock; 2 am. Feliciano was probably long gone by now, sleeping peacefully without him.

A mixture of self-pity, guilt, and the remainder of his drinks combined into tears of frustration and he didn't even have the energy to stomp his feet. He'd just go back to the pub and ask if he could stay there. Just as he was about to head back, a tired, shaky voice reached his ears.

"_Fratello_.."  
Lovino instantly turned to where the sound came from, to see Italy standing behind him, looking at him with worried eyes.  
"Feli.." He murmured, not sure what to say. "..why are you out?"

Feliciano smiled weakly and held up the key to the hotel. Romano looked down, shuffling his feet in shame. While he was out there trying to get smashed, his brother had been waiting outside in the cold for him to return.

"Feliciano, _mi dis-_"  
"-Let's just go home." Italy breathed, handing the key to his brother. Romano closed his mouth and blinked, then quickly nodded. He led the way, opening the door for both of them, and watched in silence as Feliciano headed upstairs to their room.

Once up, he had gone straight to bed, leaving Romano to feel even worse.

He knew he had done something wrong, and he _needed_ to talk with his brother. He had to explain to him why he went away, why he left him alone and how he had realized that it wasn't right. He needed to properly apologize, he needed to at least _try_ and convey his feelings, if only a little, so Italy would understand, and maybe they could take a step in the right direction.

But it didn't look like he was going to get the chance.

Slowly, trying not to make any loud sounds, Lovino slipped in bed next to Feliciano, who pretended to be asleep. Acting, unfortunately, had never been one of his talents, but Romano decided it would be best to leave him be for now. After all, he had waited outside all night for him to return, that gave him enough hope to try again later.

He turned, face away from his brother, and closed his eyes. Their flight back home left tomorrow evening, so they had another day to spend here before departure. As the tiredness kicked in, the last thing he registered was the feeling of Italy shifting below the sheets.

Feliciano watched him as he drifted further and further away in dreams and sighed softly. He knew it had been a bit mean of him to deny his apology, but he had been waiting for more than three hours, and it was very cold outside. He would have waited the world if Lovino needed him to, but that he couldn't say.

When had things become so twisted?

When did the words normally spoken at least thrice a day, become sounds they were unable to produce? Why couldn't they look at each other without having to pry through a barrier first? Why were they pushing away the only one they'd ever let near?

How was it possible to sleep this close, yet be so far apart.

They hadn't spoken properly to each other for weeks now, and Italy had never felt so incomplete in his entire life. It seemed that the more he loved him, the more he lost him.

But he couldn't stop loving him. He never would. Even when his feelings weren't returned, he couldn't just instruct his heart to stop longing for him. He was in way too deep, it grew inside of him, solid and strong, and it _hurt_, because he didn't know what to do with it. Had it been anyone else, he would have jumped right out and spill it all, but this was Lovino.

_Il suo Lovino._

He wouldn't risk losing him. Not like this. He lowered himself back down on the mattress, let go of another shaky breath, and allowed sleep to take him away.

*

When Italy woke up, the first thing he realized was that he was alone. Quickly sitting upright, he scanned the room for signs of his brother leaving, seeing he had left his suitcase. A breath of relief escaped him and for a moment he felt ashamed of thinking Romano would walk out like that.

He got up and picked up a shirt from the carpet, putting it on for cover. When he heard the door slam, he ran barefoot, toothbrush still in his mouth, to find Lovino completely drenched, a plastic bag in his hand. He blinked, eyeing his brother with obvious question, and Romano shrugged awkwardly.

"It's raining."

An hour later, the freshly baked bread Lovino had gone out to buy had been reduced to crumbs, and Feliciano watched as his brother tried to untangle his drying hair. He chased the brush through with too much force, cursing every time he hit a knot, pulling it only harder. After a few moments of watching, Italy got up from the couch and took the brush from his hands.

Romano immediately fell silent, and when Feliciano started brushing his hair in long, slow movements, his entire body relaxed.

It was the familiarity of the situation that gave him new courage, and he hesitantly opened his mouth.

"..I'm sorry about yesterday." He managed, wincing as Feliciano worked out a particularly stubborn knot.  
"I know~" Italy said, his voice sounding neutral.

Romano sighed deeply, not sure whether to be happy with this small exchange of words or not. He wanted to say so much more, tell him how he shouldn't have left him, how horrible he feels at seeing their distance increase, how much he loves him, and suddenly Lovino really wants to go _home_.

"I'm sorry too~" This time Feliciano didn't sound neutral, but more.. kind. It caught Romano off guard so he stayed still, and when Italy gave him the brush back, they shared an unsure smile.

The rain didn't show any sign of stopping, so they decided to start packing. Both brothers rummaged through the room, still a little uneasy, gathering their things and trying to get them all back in the suitcase like they were before. When Romano noticed he was missing something, he looked up at Italy, who was looking rather confused himself. The older Nation coughed awkwardly, and pointed at the shirt he was wearing.

"..that's mine."  
"What?"  
"That shirt.. it's mine."

Feliciano took the hem in his hands and studied it, finding that he was right, and smiled apologetically. He took it off and Romano spun around to shield his sight, catching the fabric as Italy threw it his way. He put it back while his brother put on a shirt of his own, his eyes still shifting through the room as if searching for something. Lovino frowned.

"You lost something?"  
Italy looked up from where he was kneeling down and flushed.  
"N-no."  
It took Romano three seconds to see his brother was wearing _one_ sock instead of two, and he shook his head. Another sorry smile found its way to Feliciano's face when he sat down beside him to look under the bed.

They searched together for a while, Romano picking up all the pillows and throwing them back down, looking under the couch and in the drawers, while Italy checked the bathroom again. Then, the older Italian heard giggling.

"Did you find it?" He asked, peeking around the corner to see what his brother was doing.  
"No~" Italy said in between giggles while he put the towels back in place. "But this is just like when we were at brother France's house~"  
Romano grimaced. He was pretty sure Francis had _taken_ their underwear, instead of them losing it.  
"Or when you lost your shirt~" Another bubbly laugh slipped from his lips. "and you had to wear one of Antonio's!"

Romano arched a brow, not sure if Italy was making fun of him or if he was just being nostalgic. That had been quite embarrassing though. He coughed, a little flustered.

"At least _I_ didn't lose my pants." He said, attempting to get even.  
"No, you just had to walk all the way back to the station on your socks because you couldn't find your shoes." Italy was still smiling, and Romano felt a grin pulling at his lips as well.  
"And you caught a cold because you forgot to bring a jacket."  
"But you made us wait three hours at the airport because you lost our tickets~"  
"Then _you_ got lost, so we _still_ couldn't leave."

Their eyes met, both blinked, at the next thing they knew, they were laughing.

"Eh, Feli?"  
"Yeah~?"  
"..is this the sock you were looking for?"

Italy looked up and smiled widely.

"Yes! Where'd you find it?"  
"..you already packed it, it was in your suitcase."

Again, they looked at each other, and Italy grinned in a way that said; at least we've made another memory, and Romano just sighed, knowing some things would never change.

He was glad they wouldn't.

"Hey," Feliciano started, gazing outside as he put on his other sock. "the rain stopped."

Right there, in that small, fragile moment, nothing stood between them. No mist in their eyes, no doubt in their smiles, just two brothers in an hotel room, not wanting to be anywhere else. It was a moment of calmness, a soothing warmth that curled around them, melting away their shields, and briefly, for a split-second, they felt each other's heart.

How they'd missed that feeling.

"..let's go get some souvenirs~" Italy suggested, needing to breathe in fresh air. Romano nodded, snatching an umbrella before following him out, just in case.

*

The sky was clear, clouds nowhere to be seen, and the brothers walked side by side through the busy streets of London. Many people were out, abusing the absence of rain for as long as it would last, getting last-minute groceries or almost-forgotten souvenirs. They walked together through the stream of humans, and it was like they moved at a different speed, as if they experienced a different flow of time.

And Romano's hand felt terribly empty as he glanced sideways at Italy, who was window shopping with a happy smile on his face. Maybe they were meant to be like this, together as brothers, as halves of a Nation, and as long as they could maintain this, things would be alright.

But then Italy turned, met his eyes for the shortest moment and smiled so brightly Romano felt like he had been struck by lightning, and he knew-

He didn't _want_ to maintain this.

His love went so much deeper than the love shared between family, it was so much more meaningful than needing each other around. He _loved_ Feliciano, loved him with an intensity close to the burning of the sun, and every second spent near him only made the feeling stronger, urging him to just break and show it all.

He would make him happy.

He'd make him happy like no one else could, he'd show him all the warmth and care he held, reserved for him alone, the kind of happiness only _he_ could bring him, it went beyond love.

A sudden rush of adrenaline toned down his insecurity, rendered his fear to the mere feeling of taking a risk, and when Feliciano pulled him into a small tourist shop he knew he had to do something, anything, because the silence would kill him if he didn't.

They had been silent for way too long.

Italy didn't know what was happening when he felt Romano's hand grabbing his, gently yet strongly pulling him back out the store, and then their pace increased and they were walking faster, running, and with every step Lovino took it all seemed to be more clear, right there in front of him, he just had to reach out, and leap, and-

And tell him.

So when they came to an halt in the heart of one of London's many parks, he felt determined to spell out his every thought and feeling, but when he looked into his brother's eyes his resolve melted and the bitter taste of fear slipped back into his mouth as if he had been running from it the entire trip there. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force it away, because he couldn't wait anymore, he couldn't take any longer, it had to happen now and it had to happen here below the cloudy sky of London, or he'd never make it home.

Feliciano's hand on his arm snapped him back to the present, and his questioning look increased the pressure on his lips. They needed to talk, to speak, for they had been relying on their silent communication for much too long, and it couldn't be trusted to convey feelings like these.

So he opened his mouth, and tried.

"We have to talk." He said, trying hard to keep his voice stable. Italy blinked, unable to read the look in his brother's eyes, and it confused him greatly.  
"W-what?"

Romano took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry I've been avoiding you." He started. "I'm sorry I yelled, and-"  
"..Wait, Lovino, you don't have to-"  
"I know you were trying to help but-"  
"Lovino, it's okay, I understa-"  
"No!"

Italy's eyes widened and Romano stared at him, almost looking _through_ him, begging him to let him finish, just this once.

"It's not okay, you don't understand, so let me explain, damn it!"

And Feliciano nodded despite himself, despite his fears, because this was way too soon and he wasn't ready to lose him yet, he wasn't ready to change, he wasn't ready to let go of what they had, no matter how shaky it had become.

So he looked at his brother in anticipation, dreading the words he was going to say, searching for answers in his eyes, but all he found was unfamiliar determination and a loud wish to be heard.

"I.." Romano tried to find his words again. "..I want you to stop helping me make friends."  
Italy opened his mouth to reply but Romano raised his hand.  
"I don't need them. They'll never get it anyway."  
"B-but.." Italy interrupted, feeling bad for doing so yet needing to say this. "..you need friends-"  
"No, Feli, I.."

Gathering all the courage he had, he looked up into Italy's wondering eyes.

"I need you."

As soon as he said this, all his emotions got caught up in each other and he knew he had to keep talking now that he started because he didn't want Italy to tell him off yet, so he averted his eyes to avoid any rejecting stare and allowed a waterfall of words to flow from his mouth.

"I need you to warn me I cuss too much, I need you to defend me against those other stupid idiots, I need you to welcome me home every day, I need you to hold me back from _killing_ that potato bastard because I _swear_ he'd been dead if it weren't for you, I need you to tell me it will be alright and I-"

Romano looked at him and now Italy could read him perfectly, and the desperation almost _hurt_.

"-I need you to keep trying. I need you to keep me alive because.. damn it…"

He rubbed his forehead, trying to realize all the things he just said, knowing there was no going back now. When he felt his brother's hand brushing his arm, he looked up to meet one of the most serious looks he had ever seen Feliciano wear.

"Lovino.."

Romano winced, not wanting to hear, but he had to be fair and allow him his time, now that he had his. He had to face the consequences of his actions, and he could only pray it wouldn't end in separation.

Feliciano stood before him, shaking a little, unable to believe this was really happening. He was so relieved, so happy, so-

"..you have me~"

He wasn't going anywhere, because he needed Romano as much as he needed him, he needed him to hold him, to listen to him, to tell him not to get himself stepped on. Needed him to hold him tight, and wish him goodnight, and kiss him every morning. He needed him to be the Italy he was and always wanted to stay. He wished to say all these things like Lovino had, but all he could manage was a shaky _'Ti amo'_, and a bone-crushing embrace.

It was enough.

Romano caught him and tangled his hand in his hair, pressing him close against his shoulder, closer to his heart, and he knew, he just knew what Italy had been wanting to say.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you.." Lovino whispered, and Feliciano nodded, because he did, and he returned every fraction of that love with all he had within him, and they could _feel_ it.

Then they shifted in the embrace, and they parted a little, temples brushing, noses touching-

And their heads tilted, breaths mingled as they got more labored, and Feliciano's hands tightened in the fabric of Lovino's shirt as he felt his brother drawing him in as close as possible-

And they looked at each other, a single moment before their eyes closed, and the final distance between them vanished as they sealed their lips together in a warm, loving kiss, and it was everything they had left to say, as if they were stealing the words from each other's mouth, and Lovino pressed, deepening the kiss, wanting to show Feliciano exactly _how_ much he loved him-

And Feliciano wrapped his arms around his brother's neck and followed, pressing back with all he had, drawing out the moment until they were out of breath, parting shortly to breathe in, then reaching for each other again.

When they truly parted, what seemed like hours later, they eyed each other seriously. There were still many things they had to tell each other, many questions they had to answer. Romano slid his hand down, reaching for his brother's, intertwining them together.

"_Andiamo a casa_."

Feliciano nodded, holding on to his hand strongly, unable to force the smile off his face.

They weren't there yet, not by far, but they had taken the first steps, started their journey, and now;

They were going home.

**Fin.

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**

_Thank you for reading! Reviews are much appreciated!_

_I'm still taking requests! Check my profile for more info!_


	2. Epilogue

**A/N:** I feel a bit awkward for uploading after over a year of silence. Still, I promised this would come, so here it is. I'm finally over my writer's block which means I will be writing actively again, and I will probably move to a livejournal account soon for all my fics. I'll keep you guys updated. Most importantly I want to say THANK YOU to EVERYONE who reviewed/favourited/alerted in the past year, all your wonderful comments have kept on making me fight this block! I hope I will be able to bring stories to you again after so long. Please enjoy! :Meresta  
**Summary:** Love wasn't _that _complicated, right?  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings:** Malexmale, brotherxbrother, slight use of alcohol.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia.

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**Epilogue**

"-and with that I would like to conclude this final presentation. Thank you all for your attention."

A moderate, polite applause rang through the large conference room as Japan bowed and gathered his materials. Once he was reseated, America walked up and grabbed the microphone; it wasn't needed, but he liked using it anyway.

"Thank you Kiku! Well, that marks the end of day two, I'll see you all back here tomorrow at eight for the wrap-up!"

A few groans were mixed to the second applause, which was slightly less genuine. Spain let his head drop from his hands to collide with the table, sighing in defeat. France chuckled and patted his shoulder in a somewhat comforting manner.  
Germany was chatting with Japan, praising him on his outstanding presentation, and the two soon ended up talking about innovations in car design and development- completely tuning out all sounds around them.

Italy looked at his friends and smiled, arranging his papers before putting them in his suitcase. Well technically, it was Romano's, but he didn't use it anyway.

"Feliciano."

Happily, the called Nation turned to face his brother. He smiled broadly, and Lovino answered with a warm, yet careful smile of his own. They held each other's gaze briefly, then Romano took the suitcase from Feliciano's hands, Italy linked their arms, and both Italians made their leave.

England glanced away from his soon-to-be argument with America to see them go, and smiled. Of course, Alfred took this as if it were directed at him, and raised his voice again to tell him the threat of aliens wasn't funny at all.

It's been almost year since the brothers reunited in the cold streets of London, the chilly air of back then heavily contrasted by the mild weather America sported this time a year. Everyone had recognized and accepted their newly found bond, relieved that the tension they used to project was lifted. It made communications and arrangements a lot easier as well, because everybody now knew that you weren't talking to either Feliciano or Romano; you were talking to Italy.

As Romano walked with his brother back to the hotel, something suddenly came to mind. He halted instantly, his eyes widened a little and stress shot through his body. Valentine's day was the day after tomorrow, and he had not made any preparations at all.

Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem. They had never exchanged gifts, they would just give advice to other Nations seeking romantic gestures, and enjoy the spreading of love around them. Well, it was mostly Feliciano who did that, but still.

Now, however, the situation had changed. Valentine's day is a day to show appreciation to the one you love, and Feliciano was definitely the one he loved. He didn't have to hide it anymore, so it would be appropriate to participate in the celebrations, and give him something from his heart.

The problem was, that he had no idea on what to give him.

"_Fratello?_ Is something wrong?"  
He snapped out of his thoughts and let out a nervous chuckle.  
"Er.. no." He looked around him, trying to see if other Nations had left already. "Say, Feli, would you mind going back on your own? I have to.. talk to some people."

Italy blinked, and for a split-second Romano got worried, but then his brother showed him one of his widest, happiest smiles yet.  
"You're going to bond~! I'm so happy~ I'll go cook delicious pasta for when you get back~"

With those words and a supportive thumbs up, Feliciano bounced off. Romano's eyes followed him for a while, then he shook his head, a small smile forming on his face. Right now, it didn't matter what reason Feliciano made up; as long as it wasn't the real one.

"..Valentine's Day? Aren't you the expert on that?" Antonio replied, grinning.  
Romano growled, regretting he even asked. Spain saw the anger forming in his eyes and raised his hands, smiling apologetically.  
"Ah, _perdone perdone.._ What about food? Love goes through the stomach, they say, and I'm sure it's no different for our little Feli."

Romano narrowed his eyes, expressing another warning. It wasn't _our_ little Feli. And food just wasn't going to cut it. He needed something real, something valuable, something special.

"Never mind."

On to ask the next person on his list.

Unfortunately, France's only suggestions involved taking off clothes ("_Best videotape it too, so I can check if you did it right"_), or getting him drunk and _then_ taking off clothes. Prussia wasn't at the meeting, but Lovino was pretty sure he'd say something along those lines as well. Bunch of bastards are all the same anyway.

England blinked at the question and told him that flowers always do well, while America seemed to make a mental note of this information. He himself said that it didn't matter what he bought Feliciano, as long as it was very expensive.

Most other Nations had left already, and the only one still present was Japan. He was still gathering his documents, cleaning up now that Germany had departed as well. Romano hesitated for a small moment, and then realized that he had nothing to lose.

"Ehm.. Kiku?"  
Japan turned, and smiled politely, if not a little surprised.  
"Hello Lovino-san. Is something wrong?"  
Romano took a deep breath.  
"..I was just wondering.. What do your people do for Valentine's Day?"

Japan blushed a fierce red and looked at the ground. Such a forward question.. Yet, Romano hardly spoke to him as it was. Kiku felt he should try to answer him as well as he could, if only to prevent him from getting angry.

"Well.. it differs.. Some people like to buy expensive gifts like jewelry or very big plush animals.. But most people just give chocolate."

Romano pondered this, a little disappointed by the similarity. Japan noticed his wondering, and decided to take a risk.

"Why, if I may ask, do you want to know?"

Now it was Lovino's turn to blush, and he was just about to shout a _"That's none of your business, dammit!"_, but Japan was the only one who could help him at this point. So he took another deep breath, and decided to just let it out.

"I.. want to surprise Feliciano.."

Japan smiled instantly, his suspicions confirmed. This made things a lot easier.  
"You shouldn't make this so hard on yourself, Lovino-san. Italy-kun is very easy to please."  
Romano shot him an angry look, and Japan realized his slip-up.  
"Eh, I mean, he is not picky when it comes to things like this. He is one to like the love behind a gift, instead of the gift itself. It should not matter what you chose to give him, I am sure he will appreciate the gesture."

During dinner, Romano kept on thinking about what Japan has said. It was a good thing that his brother would like pretty much everything, but that didn't make choosing a gift much easier. Maybe he should just stick with what he knows and prepare dinner for him.

Italy noticed his brother was clearly somewhere else, and waved his hand in front of his face.

"Lovi~ Wake up~"

Lovino blinked at having his stare interrupted and looked up, taking a moment to realize they were still having dinner, and he was spacing out completely.

"Ah..err.. Sorry." He murmured, picking up his fork and spoon again. Italy didn't quit his questioning look, and Romano started to feel a bit awkward about it. He had to say something. "..the pasta is really good."

He sighed in relief as Feliciano's eyes instantly lit up at hearing this praise.

"Uwaah~ I'm so happy you think so! I think it's delicious too~ There's a lot more in the kitchen if you want seconds~"

Lovino smiled, and took another bite. Crisis averted, for now.

Later that evening, both brother's sat on the couch of their hotel room, staring at a television screen that was far bigger than the one they had at the London hotel. America had said something about 'supersizing' and how it was all the rage, but Italy had told his brother that America was just trying to outshine England. Or impress him. Lovino didn't understand how putting large TVs in hotel rooms would do either, but he digressed. There were far more important matters to think about.

Like finding a proper gift for Feliciano.

Tomorrow would be the final day before Valentine's Day, but he would be forced to spend most of that day inside a hall listening to boring presentations. After that, he'd probably be expected to join celebratory drinks (to celebrate the meetings were over, of course) and he couldn't escape those, because his brother had already announced that he'd really like to go this year.

That left him about _now_ to find a present.

Slight panic overcame him upon realizing this, and he sat a bit more upright, possibilities running through his mind. Not that there were many. Why did a day dedicated to love have to be so hard? Love wasn't _that_ complicated, right?

Then, he had an idea. Hopefully, the stores were still open. He didn't want to run the risk of going there for nothing, so he asked Italy for America's phone number. His brother showed a content smile at this question and handed him his cell phone.

"I'm so happy Lovi is making friends~"

Romano smiled nervously and left the room for the hallway, copying the number into his own phone. It rang three times, before America picked up.

"Yo!"

"..ehm, is this Alfred?"

"Yes? Who is this?" Some noises in the background drowned out Romano's answer. America seemed to scream at someone to turn the volume of the TV down. "Sorry, who is this?" He repeated.

"..it's Lovino." Who was starting to regret calling already.

"Ah, Feliciano's brother! What's up?"

Ouch? Ah well, he didn't call to actually make friends.

"I wanted to know what time your stores close."

"Oh, that's easy! They don't!"

Romano looked surprised, though this remained unseen by America. The silence that followed did lead to further explanation on the larger Nation's part.

"People always want to buy stuff, so we never close the shops! Isn't it awesome?"

"..alright, eh, thanks."

"No problem! See you tomorrow, Feliciano's brother!" America was the first to hang up, and Romano went back into the room to return Italy's phone. His brother looked at him with a smile, but did not ask any questions. It was great enough that Lovino actually called someone to begin with, asking questions would only make him feel uncomfortable.

"I'm going out for a while."

This, Italy hadn't expected. He sat upright. "Are you~? Where~?"

"I'm eh, going to meet up with Alfred." This wouldn't be a complete lie, right? I mean, technically, they already _were_ at America's place. Another smile from his brother ensued, and Romano felt a bit bad for making Italy believe he actually _was_ making friends.

"Have fun then~ ..oh, and say hi from me~!"

Romano just nodded as he grabbed his bag and headed out. The moment cool, fresh air hit his face he felt calmer. It was going to be fine. Like Antonio said, he _was_ the expert on this kind of thing. He could do this.

Twelve shops later, Romano's confidence wasn't as strong as it were before. He found some cute things, but nothing that Italy could actually use. A plush animal was nice, but it would just sit there and catch dust all the time. Matching key chains.. way too corny. Chocolate was an option, but that would just be eaten and left at that. It didn't feel special enough.

He also had to keep in mind that whatever he bought, it had to be taken back across America's extremely well-protected borders. He had to be careful not to buy something that Italy could not keep with him on the airplane.

Browsing through yet _another_ Valentine's section at the shop he was currently in, he decided that these things too, weren't good enough. It was all too pink and too fluffy and too.. meaningless, to give to someone like Feli. He sighed and turned to leave for another place, when his eye fell on some bright colours in the corner of the store.

It turned out to be a tiny Arts and Crafts section, and it was full of supplies like thread, felt, pencils, paint and different kinds of paper. Maybe he could make his brother something? That would be more personal than a bought gift, at least. But where would be find the time? Not to mention he shared a room with Italy, it would be next to impossible to keep a project like this a secret.

He thought about it for a while, then picked up a few things and headed for the counter.

"Is it a gift, sir?" The shop clerk asked rather automatically.

"..yes please."

"Regular, birthday or valentine?"

"err.." Was there a difference? When the clerk noticed Romano's confusion, he sighed and took a red ribbon from a plastic box next to the cash register. He tied it neatly around the gift, ending the knot by tying a small bow.

"Will this be OK sir?"

Romano nodded, and the man proceeded to put the gift in a bag.

"Oh, I'd rather just take it with me like this." The Nation interrupted, and with another sigh, the man handed him the gift and thanked him for his patronage. Romano could understand the man's trouble, because the shops never seem to close, he _never_ had time off. He couldn't imagine a life like that.

When he got back home, he found Italy sleeping on the couch. A quick glance at the clock told him that he'd be gone for three whole hours, and he couldn't blame his brother for dozing off. He hid his bag in his own suitcase, before carrying Feliciano to bed. He joined him with a content feeling and overwhelming relief of finally getting this whole 'finding-a-gift' thing over with.

The next day went almost exactly as expected. Everyone showed up at eight, aside from America, who came running in with apologies a quarter past nine. He muttered about a really good movie being on last night while unlocking the meeting hall, and all other Nations just shrugged as they took their place.

The final few presentations are always the most boring, because they recap what has been discussed during the course of the entire world meeting. Even America couldn't make them exciting to listen to. When the final slide had been talked about and the presentation closed, everyone started clapping to prevent further speeches.

The celebratory drinks weren't all that bad either. Romano and Italy had one wine each, and the first waited patiently at the bar while the other made his rounds chatting to everyone. When he had seen and spoken everyone who was there, Italy returned to his brother and asked to leave. He was tired, and Romano couldn't deny his own weariness either.

Then, before Lovino knew it, it was Valentine's day. He woke up feeling giddy and nervous, suddenly not that sure of his gift anymore, and wondering if Feliciano would have gotten _him_ anything. Speaking of his brother.. he wasn't in the bed.

"Lovi~ Are you up yet~? I made breakfast~"

If he hadn't been up already, that definitely would have woken him up. He got up, dressed himself, retrieved the gift from his suitcase and went to the table, where Italy was waiting. Romano's jaw dropped at seeing what he had prepared.

The entire table was filled with food, brioche, bread rolls, panini.. He'd made coffee too, the milk poured in such a way that a heart appeared on the drink's surface. A small vase with a single rose stood in the centre, and Italy seemed to bounce on his seat, proud of the work he'd done.

"Happy Valentine's day Lovi~!" He said with a smile, and Lovino felt an unexplainable happiness bubble up inside of him. Feli went through all this trouble, just for him? He was so stunned that he almost forgot to give _his_ gift. He offered it to Feliciano, who's face brightened and smile widened at the sight of what Romano had gotten him.

It was a box of watercolours, with a brush inside. While Italy was busy studying the colours, Romano offered him a sketchbook.

"..It has special paper.. for the paint.." He said softly, and Italy couldn't express his happiness. He put the gifts aside and jumped his brother, hugging him so tightly he could hear a few bones crack back into place.

"Thank you so much~! I really love this!" Feliciano said, holding his brother even closer. Lovino smiled and returned the embrace, truly relieved that the gift was so well-received.

Turns out Japan was right after all. It didn't matter what he would give him. The two Nations sat down for breakfast, and Lovino couldn't help but close his eyes and savour the taste every now and then. It was _that_ good.

The time to leave America had come. Italy had asked for some water on the plane, and proceeded to paint during trip home, making many stewardesses nervous with fear of paint getting on the interior. Romano would calm them down with a charming smile, promising that his brother wouldn't make a mess.

Halfway there, Italy dozed off and Romano had to quickly seize the brush from his hand to make sure he would be able to keep his promise. He couldn't resist stealing a glance at the yet unfinished painting, and his heart leaped inside his chest at what he saw.

Feliciano had painted a boot-shaped land, with the liveliest of colours. There were no borders, to lines to divide. It looked as if he was still busy filling in the rest of the painting, with blues for the sea and outlines of neighbouring lands. Though still unfinished, the picture was clear.

One, united Italy.

**Fin.**

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_Again, THANK YOU ALL for your support and patience. I will be finishing up any fic or request that has been neglected for the past year, and then I will move on at a livejournal account that is not yet in existence. I hope to see all of you there! :Meresta_


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